Juggling the joy

Youngest grandson's hexie shirt; more about that at the end of the post.

This morning as I watched the moon rise and Venus emerge, I was grateful for clear skies and warm tea and the quiet moments in which to appreciate these blessings.

A few hours later I learned one my beloveds is in hospital with a serious ailment. The trajectory of how I wanted to present the above treasures now takes a sharp twist, as sweet meets bitter, yet I am undaunted to recount the good while praying for the lesser element. Because this is often how life goes, joys hand in hand with sorrows. How we balance that is another issue altogether.

I'm nearing the end of Letters & Papers From Prison, Dietrich Bonhoeffer's last two years of life documented in correspondence between him and those he loved. After the failed assassination attempt on Hitler, the letters dwindle, and I'm reaching that point in the book, but the truths exchanged between Bonhoeffer and his best friend Eberhard Bethge detail how life's richness depends on the way we absorb the good and bad, melding those into our existences, not merely steeping ourselves wholly in either. Bonhoeffer has been imprisoned for over a year while Bethge is now a solider in the German army, his wife and new baby left behind. The men discuss the necessary acceptance of distinct opposites within the human condition; Dietrich writes that many of his fellow inmates are consumed by their momentary moods - all happy, all greedy, all dejected, all despairing. Bethge notes the single-mindedness of those in his corps, and that a few view him with extreme disdain, perhaps thinking his pastoral background a hindrance, or some other aspect of his character that seems out of step with the Fuhrer's edicts. Bonhoeffer counsels Bethge, as he returns to his unit, to keep the joy of his wife and new baby within his grasp, and that the rancor he feels in leaving them will add to a greater appreciation for life in general, as Bonhoeffer himself attempts to make sense of being locked away from his family and fiancee, to whom he became betrothed just weeks before being arrested.

Moon rises and planet sightings vs hospitalizations and governmental coups; the framework of life cannot be completely slanted this or that way, instead spinning on a constantly rotating axis that knows the sun's light and the cool of darkness. I was also pleased this morning that for the first time in a long time I didn't lament watching the day begin, that I could observe nature and not fret what wasn't being written. This is a serious....problem or habit, I suppose, that I as a writer cling to unnecessarily. That it's been ages since I wrote a story grates on me, but not this morning, thank you Jesus! And in the light of my loved one in hospital, crafting fiction is far down the To Do list. More to matter was sending out prayer requests, making those prayers myself, then taking a shower finding my tingling upper back didn't appreciate hot water, so maybe the aftereffects of shingles remain.

The last few days my right shoulder has been niggly when I sew, but I haven't wanted to acknowledge it. I should completely stop hand-sewing for a few days (not the one day I managed on Monday, ahem), but there's SO MUCH I have going on in the stitching realm! Okay, that's fine, Future Me snorts, but how are you going to heal completely if you keep overdoing it?

Yeah, Past Me adds. I didn't sew AT ALL when we first had the shingles.

I grimace, because they are spot-on. For a month in spring 2019, I didn't do ANY hand sewing. My first case of shingles, while not TERRIBLE, was pretty acute, and I simply COULD NOT sew without pain. This go-round was barely a blip, except it's not fully healed. I just need to finish the hand-quilting aspect of one hexie shirt for our eldest grandson, I want to say. Or I have just said, not meeting the eyes of either part of who I was or will become.

Both are glaring at me, I can feel it like the niggles along my upper shoulders. I peer out, finding wide smirks. Fine, do what you like, Past Me huffs.

Future Me crosses her arms over herself. Well, I ask, what's your opinion?

You spent the morning lamenting how one you deeply love doesn't take the proper care of themselves and is now in hospital. Need I say more?

But how to juggle the joy, I want to respond, bringing this post's theme back into the fray.

Future Me smiles that all-knowing grin, shrugs, then walks away. Perhaps I know what happens to Bonhoeffer and Bethge, but they had no idea when sending those letters. They merely commended each other to God's care while being right where they were. Which is all I can do as well. And with that said, have a beautiful Wednesday!